


As Good As Gone

by Harukiya



Category: Akira (Anime & Manga)
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Character Analysis, Character Death, Disjointed, Flashbacks
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-14
Updated: 2018-09-14
Packaged: 2019-07-12 01:22:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,133
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15984575
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Harukiya/pseuds/Harukiya
Summary: There isn’t a funeral service for Tetsuo.Not surprising, really.Tokyo is in shambles, tragedy fresh on everyone’s minds. The truth of the matter on very few. Kaneda spends many sleepless nights playing the events of Tetsuo’s last days over and over in his head, wondering how it could have gone differently. If there was any possibility of things going differently. If he should have done anything differently. He knows it’s in vain, their paths strayed long before this bullshit happened, but Kaneda doesn’t know what else to do.Try and act as if the city hasn’t just been blown to hell and all their friends are dead.





	As Good As Gone

**Author's Note:**

> here’s a lil Akira character analysis thing i’ve been working on for like ever…not sure what inspired this, it just happened and then kept happening. 
> 
> It’s pretty disjointed and like a very, very vague and self indulgent character analysis of the growth (and death) of Kaneda and Tetsuo’s relationship, written as best I could given my creative desire to make this as confusing as possible lmao. enjoy !

-

Kid’s are mean.

Kaneda’s known that from the start. It’s in their blood, in their gap toothed smiles, and grubby hands. It’s why they have snotty noses and their voices are so high pitched. They’re mean in ways they have yet to grow out of.

(they’re mean in ways they won’t grow out of)

Kids are mean without reason to be so because they have all the reason in the world to be so.

Kaneda knows that. Tetsuo does not.

When Kaneda found him by the water fountain, his eyes watery and his hands shaky, all scraped knees and dirty clothes and pouty lips, he had clenched his hands into fists. Ignored the taste of blood running down the back of his throat, of the water in his own eyes. He approached the boy with the intention of giving him back his stolen toy, the cool robot figurine that in his scuffle with the other kids to get it back, lost an arm. His steps were sure and even, shoulders held back and head up high. Kaneda saw the boy look at him out of the corner of his eye, his head drawn down, shoulders hunched in, and he freezed. His eyes were big and glossy and Kaneda didn’t see a mean bone in this boy’s body. Kaneda reached the fountain just as the boy burst into movement, taking several steps back away from him. Kaneda gave him a once over, trying not to look too much like a predator eyeing his prey, but that’s just how it is.

On the playground, kids aren’t just mean, they’re animals.

Reaching into his pocket, he fumbled for the toy, handed it over with a smile. “Here. This is yours, isn’t it?”

The boy stared with mute eyes, weary hands reaching out on their own accord. Kaneda stayed as still as a statue, afraid he’d scare the skittish kid off. The boys fingers brushed softly over his palm and just like that they’d made history.

“It’s because you’re new here.” He supplied helpfully, recognizing the humiliation and pain and sadness in his eyes as he stared at the toy in his scraped hands. “They try to make it harder for the new ones. They’re just stupid. ”

The boys gaze fell to his nose, still drip dripping blood, and he grinned wide, sniffed it up back into his head. “Me? I’m pretty new here myself. Those jerks haven’t left me a minute to myself ever since I stepped foot in this place, nothing I can’t handle though!”

At the panicked look the boy sent him, he scowled and stooped low to stick his face in the steady spray of water from the fountain, feeling it in his nostrils. The water ran in pink swirls down the drain.

As he wiped his face on his sleeve, the boy’s eyes opened wide, as if he’d realizing something, and he said hurriedly through a small, shy smile, “I am…Tetsuo. Shima Tetsuo.”

Kaneda grinned widely. “Tetsuo, s’long as you stick with me, we’ll show those losers who’s the boss. I’m the King, Shotaro Kaneda, and I promise you that!”

The splatter of blood on Kaneda’s shirt, Tetsuo’s teary eyes, his hands curled tight around a broken action figure: it was enough of an indication. They’d already been defeated, ground down into dust and having blown away with the wind, they don’t care to try and find the missing pieces of themselves because they never will.

They’ll never win, but they grin anyways.

They pretend like they will, like they still have a chance.

_(joke is, they were born on a losing streak)_

-

“There’s something wrong with that kid.”

Yamagata is leaning in close to him, hand tapping nervously against the bar counter, stance uncomfortable, eyes dilated and bloodshot. Kaneda glances at him over the rim of his glass: his breathing is heavy and deep and he’s gone, completely and totally out in space, but there’s something new in this brand of “fucked up”, a lingering note of paranoia, a blossoming awareness in his unfocused gaze that rubs Kaneda’s skin the wrong way.

_(it’s because he’s seen that look too many times in the mirror to not know what it means)_

Kaneda doesn’t want to hear this, doesn’t need to hear this. He doesn’t care _(but he does he needs to care)_ so he looks away, finds comfort at the bottom of an empty glass.

It’s the same thing every other night.

“He’s quiet, and what, with this gang, I can’t really say anything’s off bout that, it’s hard to be heard, but Kaneda, when he talks, it’s-I don’t know, it’s _weird_. There’s something wild in him. I hear it in his voice and it’s been in his eyes lately. You’ve seen how he is, right?”

Of course he has. It’s his job to see. With Tetsuo, _everything_ is a job, a responsibility, and Kaneda doesn'’t know _why_. He really has no reason to treat Tetsuo as if he’s his little brother, to worry for him and to worry about him. There was never a reason, but there always was. Tetsuo was Tetsuo and Kaneda was Kaneda. Kaneda could only fall so far. Tetsuo was born already at rock bottom. They were who they were and that was enough explanation in itself. It was for him at least.

Kaneda drinks on in silence, ignores Yamagata as he reaches into his pocket for a pill, feeling his eyes pulse in his head and pressure ache in his temples. Yamagata sighs in frustration, watches raptly as the pill disappears into his mouth.

“You saw how he was tonight, Kaneda. What the fuck was that about? One second he’s in the hospital, the next he’s sending someone to the hospital.” Kaneda still says nothing, swallows the pill dry like he does Yamagata’s words. “When the cops came and we split up, I caught a glimpse of him all by his lonesome with a fat fucking grin on his face, going faster than I’d ever seen him go before, man. He’s not a team player anymore. I don’t know if he ever was. He’s just-he’s not the same.”

Yamagata watches him intently, eyes cloudy like the air in their lungs- breathe in, breathe out.

Kaneda watches back.

With a scoff, Yamagata pushes roughly away from him, snags a glass from the counter and downs the contents. He glances at Tetsuo, sitting in a secluded booth in the far corner, gaze on the dirty table, hands clenched tight around a can of beer, bloody and bruised and blank in all senses of the word.

“He’s changed, Kaneda…and something needs to be done about him, don’t you know?” Kaneda watches him go, watches them all go, watches Tetsuo sneak out the back, careful, dark eyes finding his across the bar. Their gaze lingers and then- He’s gone too.

Kaneda sighs and his head falls back, eyes closed. It’s late and he should be tired. He should be somewhere else. It’s closing time and he should be gone and in his bed but - _something needs to be done about him, don’t you know?_

“Of course I do.” He breathes out, frustrated, expecting an answer-from who?

The barkeep tells him it’s time to go.

Of course it is.

-

“I am…”

-

“Tetsuo!” Kaneda is scared. He’s scared for his life and for Tetsuo’s life and Kaori is _dead_ and Akira _isn’t_ and everything is chaos. The stadium is crumbling and Tetsuo is growing, he’s getting bigger and his screams hurt, they burn Kaneda’s ears, thunderstorms in his head, louder louder louder and _louder_

-kaneda help me someone help help me help me kaneda kaori oh kaori she hurts we hurt it HURTS make it STOP help kaneda HELP me MAKEITSTOPKANEDAMAKEITSTOP-

Kaneda wants to go back to reform school, to Harukiya, to bike rides at ungodly hours in the morning, adrenaline rushes _(but not like this)_ and wind in his hair, along his skin, through his soul, ripping him apart. He wants to go back to pills and punching and people he doesn’t know, frozen faces at high speeds, higher than higher, as high as he can get and Tetsuo, Kaneda wants Tetsuo back, wants his friend who never had a real mean bone in his body, who cried a lot and ran from what he truly wanted, too shy to get it for himself, all synthesized anger and aggression and courage, frustrating and aggravating and impossible as he is.

He wants him back.

“Tetsuo!” His throat is raw from screaming and he feels like he’s about to pass out, he’s shaking and the ground is shaking and the world is ending this can’t be happening but then there is a blinding light and Kaneda can’t see anything, can’t see anything other than Tetsuo looking at him with those big wide eyes of his, calling for him, reaching for him and you have to help him kaneda you need to help him he deserves that much _(and so much more a kid just a kid a poor fucking_ kid _)_ it’s not his fault it’s yours it’s theirs it’s akira’s it’s his it’s his it’s all tetsuo’s fault HE’S JUST A KID

He is consumed and then they are no more.

-

_Together, the three of us, we can save that innocent boy-_

 -

“Kaneda!” He barely managed to hear Tetsuo call his name over the howl of the wind, over the shouts of glee and excitement, over the rumble and grumble of their engines. Kaneda turned to look at him, head light with exhilaration, breathless, shaking and quaking, at peace with his bike and the road.

He could crash. This was risky, hands in the air, brakes off, vision swimming, everything a risk, and he could crash, he could die, but that’s what made it so much better and for all the pills they’d taken tonight, Tetsuo looked how he felt: fucking _amazing._

“Race you to Harukiya’s, Kaneda! Loser get’s the bill!” And then he was gone, weaving around Kai and Yamagata, who hollered and laughed, taking off in pursuit of some chase they were never apart of. And Kaneda gripped his handlebars, revved his engine to catch up, he did, because he was broke as shit and he was the notorious leader of The Capsules for a reason, but when Tetsuo looked back at him over his shoulder, eyes wide, grin like fire, cheeks burning with the wind and hair blown back, he was alive.

He was alive, Kaneda marveled, he was high and dry and alive.

He pretended his bike was low on battery and endured being the butt of every joke and insult for the night because Tetsuo’s burning smile, seared into his head, was so worth it.

-

People are mean.

Kaneda’s known that from the get go. It’s in their coding, in their wiring, in the circuitry that makes up their asinine personalities and infuriating complexes. It’s in their greed and anger and hate and selfishness _(they’re mean because they don’t know what else to be, and they never will.)_ People are mean for plenty of reasons, but not for enough reasons that matter.

Kaneda knows that.

And this time, so does Tetsuo.

When Kaneda found him by the ramp on Highway 14, his eyes swollen shut and his knuckles stained red, all torn clothes and broken bones and bloody lips, surrounded by Clowns, he had clenched his hands into fists and inhaled shakily, ignoring the tint of red that veiled his vision, the white hot rage that told him to _bash their fucking heads together_.

He approached the group of bikers with threats of pain in his eyes, hands clenched boldly into fists, nails digging crescent moons into his palms, through his gloves. Eagerly anticipating the bite and crunch of bone under his fists. His steps quick and paced, shoulders taut with anger and head bowed in disgust.

Kaneda saw Tetsuo look at him out of the corner of his eye, his head back against the pavement, shoulders lax with defeat, and he was frozen. His eyes narrowed and blank and Kaneda didn’t see an unbroken bone in this boy’s body.

Kaneda’s anger ebbed as he reached the ugly ass group of jokers and his boys burst into movement, leaping at the clowns with pipes and baseball bats to get them away from Tetsuo. Kaneda gave him a once over, trying not to look too much like he’s reevaluating his worth, but that’s just how it is.

On the highway, people aren’t just mean, they’re merciless.

Reaching out his hand, he kneeled down next to Tetsuo, found his eyes, already watching him. “Here. Can you get up Tetsuo?”

He stared with quiet eyes, battered hands reaching out on their own accord. Kaneda stayed as still as a statue, afraid he’d hurt Tetsuo. The boys hands hovered over his arm, hesitant, pushed it roughly away and just like that they’ve changed history.

“Come on _Tetsuo_ , you look like shit, you can’t really be trying to get up on your own right now.”

Kaneda’s voice was flat, patronizing in his own ears. He recognized the anger and pain and hatred in Tetsuo’s eyes as he stared at the hand Kaneda pushed into his face once again. “We’ll take care of those sorry bastards for you.”

The boys gaze fell to his cut cheek, still drip dripping blood, and Kaneda raised an eyebrow, touched the wound idly and it stung. “Don’t you worry bout lil ol’ me. Those assholes are the only ones that are gonna be feeling the heat tonight.”

At the unamused look Tetsuo sent him, he scowled and jerked up just in time to watch Yamagata kick some fat bozo over the side of the ramp they’re on, blood on his hands, a smile on his face. The sewers stained red.

As he wiped his cheek with the back of his hand, Tetsuo stumbled to his feet, as if drunk, and hissed painfully through his red, clenched teeth, “I am…fine. I don’t need your help.”

Kaneda stared harshly at Tetsuo. “S’long as you’re as stupid and reckless and stubborn as you are, you _will._ I promise you that much Tetsuo!”

The smear of blood on Kaneda’s cheek, Tetsuo’s dry eyes, his hands curled tight around a broken wrist: it was enough of an indication. They’d always been fractured, fucked up beyond repair and having been born that way, they don’t care to try and find a way to fix themselves because they never will.

They’ll never be whole, but they grin anyways.

They pretend like they will, like they still have a chance.

_(thing is, they were never meant to be happy)_

-

“I am…”

-

watching him watching Kei is watching him. He feels her gaze hot and heavy in the back of his mind and he shakes it away, runs his hands through his hair and touches his head to the ground.

Kaneda needs stability, needs to feel the crumbled cement beneath him, needs to feel alone in his own head right now. He needs to know it’s all over but it can’t be over and he’s so fucking conflicted he’s so confused. He grinds his head into the ground, clenches his eyes and fists and he yells a broken sound into the broken cement.

Kei takes a step towards him and he makes her stop he tells her to stop but he doesn’t say _one word_ and she pauses, freezes where she stands.

She heard him loud and clear.

It wasn’t supposed to end like this. Tetsuo is gone and not even ten minutes ago he was right there, he was a kid with scraped knees and a broken toy and teary eyes and Kaneda was right there and he should have said something, he should have saved him, he

\- was never supposed to save him.

Tetsuo finally took control, finally decided to do what he wanted, not what he was told, not what was already chosen for him. He wove his own path and he

\- was never supposed to make it out alive.

Because the truth is, they’re only transient. All of them. Every single one.

Even the Gods.

-

_but someday we will be…_

-

“-as good as gone.”

-

“I am…”

-

“Number 41…what the hell is that?”

Kaneda’s parked on his couch, impatience in his voice, a pill or two working steadily through his system. He’s got a stack of Kai’s skin mag’s and more than enough sexual frustration in his system that he’s genuinely surprised Tetsuo hasn’t smelled the testosterone, hasn’t taken a hint, hasn’t moved from where he’s been standing in the doorway for almost five minutes, talking nonsense.

He wears a cold sweat on his brow like a badge, eyes fever bright and crazy intense, hands shaking, and suddenly it hit’s Kaneda, _hard_ , that Tetsuo looks like shit and he’s practically just gotten back from the hospital. There’s still a bandage wrapped, snow white, nice and tight around his dark mused hair, a gauze pad bulging out beneath it.

Kaneda sits up and blinks the fuzziness from his vision, takes a closer look at Tetsuo, watches how he shifts and his eyes drift away and then back to him, away, back again. “I heard them, Kaneda. They were talking about me, but it wasn’t _me_. I was Number 41 and he was…special. They were saying I was Number 41 but I’m not and I’m not Akira and I don’t fucking know who Akira even is but he’s _everywhere_ and he is _everything_ and Kaneda, I can’t think right.”

At this point Kaneda stands up, slowly, because he’s worried now, he’s worried for Tetsuo he’s not making sense-

“I-I feel like something’s wrong with my head, it hurts. It hurts real fuckin bad Kaneda. And-and the pills help, but the pain’s still there. Akira’s still there, Number 41 is still there, you…you’re still there.” This is where he takes a cautious step towards Tetsuo, whose eyes are roving over his face, then tracing the curve of the ceiling, the curve of his jaw, tracing the crack in the window-

“Of course I’m still here Tetsuo. I told you a long time ago, as long as you stick with me, we’ll show the world what we’re made of, yeah? You and me and our bikes and our boys. We’re all we’ve got.”

Tetsuo’s eyes drift towards him and they stay there: his gaze is hypnotizing, startling, reminding Kaneda of clear summer nights on top of the highest most dizzying buildings they can find, stars in the sky and beer cans and gusts of wind and standing too close to the edge, a breath away from falling-

“I’m sorry.” Tetsuo speaks so quietly Kaneda barely hears him over the neighbors, voice like it was when they were kids: soft, unsure, _so so sad_. And suddenly Kaneda has _no idea_ who this person is.

“Sorry? Wha…-for what?” Tetsuo’s gaze is gone again, locked on something he can’t see with his own eyes and Kaneda sighs, slumps his shoulders, shucks off his jacket and throws it over the pile of magazines he had planned on getting seriously acquainted with.

They can wait. Tetsuo cannot.

“Alright, hear me out. We’ve got no place to be for a while, and it’s late, why not crash here? We can drink some beer, watch T.V. from the hag’s place across the way and chill, yeah? You can crash here on my nice, comfortable couch and I’ll take that old, rickety, uncomfortable bed, cause you deserve nothin but the best. How bout it?” He claps his hands together and grins wide, hoping to get Tetsuo’s attention and it works. His eyes stray towards him and they look more normal now, albeit a little lost.

It takes a minute for Tetsuo to answer. “…There’s no way in hell I’m sleeping on that shitty old piece of trash again. Honestly, Kanny, it hardly qualifies as furniture, even if it does tie in with this pigsty…” Kaneda’s jaw just about drops.

“You little _shit!_ Like you’ve got any reason to be sayin that to me when _you’re_ the one living in a junkie’s outhouse.” Tetsuo bristles, predictably, _thankfully_ , pushes away from the threshold and his eyes gleam, face thunderous with humilated anger and indignation and _this_ is the Tetsuo that Kaneda knows, not the one Yamagata keeps preaching about, what, with his heavy brow and stiff face and wild eyes, _this_ is the kid he’s always been unreasonably fond of.

That is until he kicks Kaneda in the shin and tackles him onto the ‘shitty old piece of trash.’

“You asshole!”

-

There isn’t a funeral service for Tetsuo.

Not surprising, really.

Tokyo is in shambles, tragedy fresh on everyone’s minds. The truth of the matter on very few. Kaneda spends many sleepless nights playing the events of Tetsuo’s last days over and over in his head, wondering how it could have gone differently. If there was any possibility of things going differently. If he should have done anything differently. He knows it’s in vain, their paths strayed long before this bullshit happened, but Kaneda doesn’t know what else to do.

Kei drifts in and out of his apartment, bringing hot food from the shelters, trying vainly to coax him out of this deep, dark place he has found himself in with conversation about the ongoing reconstruction of the ruined town. Kaisuke visits once or twice a week, says very little, cries a lot. They sit together in mostly silence and smoke, drink, pop pills.

Try and act as if the city hasn’t just been blown to hell and all their friends are dead.

Kaneda, when he manages to fall asleep, dreams of Tetsuo. Sees flashes of him behind his eyelids when he’s awake. Hears whispers of his voice in the passing breeze.

He’s at a loss, doesn’t know where to go from here. Tells Kei this much one night on the roof of the abandoned building, standing close to the edge. He looks down on the destroyed city that used to be their playground. Theirs. Kei sidles up next to him suddenly and takes his hand into hers. Kaneda doesn’t look at her. She squeezes his palm tightly within hers. He doesn’t squeeze back.

“You go forward, stupid. That’s the only place you have a right to be going.”

A gust of air suddenly whips around them, making Kaneda sway on his feet and Kei cling a little more tightly to his hand. He stopped thinking about falling days ago. A whisper sounds in his head, soft, unsure, and _so so sad_. He can’t tell whose voice it is anymore.

“Tetsuo chose his own path. He chose to chase after that power and use it no matter the consequences. Recklessly and heavy handedly, he chased after the thrill like you taught him and yeah…it sure as hell backfired on him. But despite that, at least in the end…he got what he wanted.” Kaneda looks at her suddenly, curious as to what the hell she’s getting at. She always had a way of making him feel lost.

She’s gazing out over the dark horizon of their wrecked town like he had been moments ago, like he has been for years. On her face is a smile that’s a little too bitter to look convincing, but its softened by the tears in her eyes.

“He had you on his side all the way to the end.” Kaneda’s eyes rove over Kei’s face and he lets out a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding. It turns into a chuckle, incredulous and breathless. Kei’s eyes meet his and he matches her smile as something lights up in his chest, painful and raw and relieving. A dam breaks inside him and he’s laughing loudly now, thinking back to the first time he meet Tetsuo…just a sad, shy, powerless kid all alone in this mean world.

_(s’long as you stick with me, we’ll show those losers who’s the boss)_

“Yeah…” He thinks about how he imagined Tetsuo being the one to chase him to the ends of the world, to follow him wherever he went like the meek, aimless kid he always seemed to be. Kaneda thought it would be himself throwing the wrench into the machine, fucking up the world big time and kick starting the revolution this shitty, merciless town needed.

But the shtick got old, and the tables got turned. The powerless became the powerful.

Kaneda always thought he was a winner and never really saw the same in Tetsuo. Never really thought he would see himself in a position to fall so far, to lose so much. But still…

“He always did need someone to watch his back.”

-


End file.
